The MVC Literary Journal

From So Longeth My Soul

The calendar pages fall unto the dirty kitchen floor. She lies there, watching the swinging pendulum on the grandfather clock. Outside a snail makes its way across the earth in the garden as the flowers wilt in the coldness of time. It had been almost a month since he left, slammed the door in her face and walked out of her life. She recalls the night as clearly as though it occurred just yesterday. Her world was destroyed by a kiss, and her heart was broken beyond repair, shattered into a thousand pieces to be scattered by the wind, to be carried off where they could find rest. Sweat droplets trickled down her face and splashed onto the floor, and yet she felt so cold. She could not eat or drink or sleep; something had been taken from her; and while she couldn’t bear this feeling of being incomplete, she did not want any part of it restored to her rightful possession. It could not be, so she could not ask to undo the past to take away her sufferings; she only wanted to hold onto her memories, all she truly had to keep in her mind, locked away forever. She had no motivation left in her. She had spent too many nights crying out for God’s mercy, waiting for time to mend her broken soul. But she could not receive His mercy because she desired only what was taken from her. She will not admit that she longs for him, for even if he returns he can be easily taken away from her again. She likes there, watching the clouds float peacefully by in the sunny sky. She is drowning in an endless sea of hopelessness; and no matter how many opportunities pass her way for rescue, she will not reach out for a single one of them. Her soul seeks comfort from one source; it is burdened by the fact that he shall not return. She mourns inside, as she rises from her rest to continue through life as best she can. “But for how much longer?” she asks, peering out the window. “There is nothing here for me now.”

Labels: 2007: Belles Lettres